Page 63 of Atlas
She hesitates. Her mask flickers for a second, just enough for me to see what’s behind it. Worn edges. Fragile corners. The way she bites the inside of her cheek when she’s trying not to cry.
“I’m fine,” she says, but it doesn’t land the way it used to.
“Anita—”
She cuts me off with a soft voice. “Don’t, Atlas.”
I nod slowly. “Right.”
She places the document on the desk, fingers brushing over the surface like she’s grounding herself. “I miss this,” she says, almost too quietly to hear.
“Miss what?”
“This.” Her gaze flits up to mine. “Us. The friendship. The . . . safety of it. You were the only person I didn’t have to fight around.”
My chest tightens. “You had to do what was right for you.”
She swallows. “I know.”
For a second, we just stand there, the silence thick with everything we never said. Everything we can’t say now.
“Well, isn’t this cosy?”
I almost groan out loud at the sound of Kasey’s voice. “Posh and . . .” She laughs, stopping beside me. “I can’t exactly call you Becks.”
“Not now, Kase, hey,” I mutter.
“You got a car you need to be under,” she says bluntly.
I arch a brow. “Now, you’re the boss?”
“Someone needs to be.” She gives me a pointed stare. “I was just speaking to Rue on the phone. She sounds happy.”
My eyes flit to where Anita stiffens. “Seriously, Kasey, get the fuck out,” I snap.
She rolls her eyes but heads out, slamming the office door.
“I should go. Ask Axel to sign this and get it back to me,” says Anita.
“We can still be friends,” I blurt. “Can’t we?”
She stares for a moment. “I don’t know, can we?”
I nod. “We can at least try.”
A small smile pulls at the corners of her mouth, and I relax a little. I prefer it when she’s happier. “Okay, that sounds good.”
“If you need anything, with your son or whatever, you only have to ask.” Tears fill her eyes, and I panic. “Shit, sorry, I don’t want to upset you.”
“It’s all just . . . hard.”
The tears roll down her cheeks. I’ve never really seen her cry and it breaks me. I tug her to me and wrap my arms aroundher, automatically burying my nose in her hair and inhaling her familiar scent. It feels grounding, safe. “Don’t cry,” I whisper.
I feel her shoulders shake as she sobs against my chest. Her arms wrap tighter around me, and I know without a doubt she needs a friend right now. “Shall we get some lunch?” I offer.
She takes a shuddering breath. “If you’re busy, it doesn’t matter.”
“I’m never too busy for you, Nita.”
